


'Ah, very clever.'

by blazingembers



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-05-29 06:43:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6363574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blazingembers/pseuds/blazingembers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A very short piece about a case, based on prompt: 'The text message simply read 'Ah, very clever'.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	'Ah, very clever.'

**Author's Note:**

> Based on prompt: 'The text message simply read 'Ah, very clever'.' It is not scientifically correct, before you ask specifics! I really appreciate (constructive) criticism, so please feel free to natter on in the comments :)

The text message simply read ‘Ah, very clever’. Well of course it would be – what else would you expect from a high-functioning sociopath? Besides, I closed that case hours ago – catch up, brother. Mycroft is in desperate need of some facts drilling into his otherwise devoid brain. His otherwise devoid hippocampus, to be precise. John is giving me a strange look, as if I’m the one who got a degree in having the half-decent knowledge of human anatomy. The cases have been pretty dull recently, to be honest – the ‘mysterious’ death of an old lady, a young boy missing, serial killing of seven school-children, the usual. John seems so concerned about the people, as if they are more than silly games to keep my mind from working in over-drive. He thrusts his phone at me, a case displayed on the screen: ‘Non-toxic’ gassing of four people at local post office. Nothing much else to do here, I suppose. Mrs. Hudson doesn’t seem to approve of me using the wall for target practice; I’m not entirely sure why.

John fills me in on the details as we hail a taxi – three customers and a step-in shop assistant were in the post office at the time, which was 9:08. All four were given a post-mortem, with the conclusion of gas. A customer walked in, approximately three minutes after the attack, and was not affected. He alerted the police and ambulance services.

We meet a reporter down in the village, looking pale and rather confused. I don’t blame him – the average intelligence of the general public could easily fit into a grain of salt. ‘I just don’t get it,’ he stammers, ‘it doesn’t make any sense! Four people gassed and murdered, with no toxins what so ever’. He scratches his head and frowns deeply. Make that a finely ground grain of salt. I attempt to think, pressing my fingers to my temples as John nods along to the man’s meaningless blabber. If the gas is released into the room, people will begin to scream as they struggle to breathe. Houses surround the building, so screaming would alert neighbours. Besides, the first person to find them arrived three minutes afterwards, in no particular hurry. ‘Stupid, stupid.’ John gives me a strange look, again, and I pay no attention. The poison must have already been in there – simple really, as it was eight minutes after opening time. I walk into the shop, memorising the layout and items.

A de-humidifier lies just behind where the sales-person would sit, the tray holding 107 milliliters of water. It has some timer mechanism embedded into the front of it. Nothing from the five isles of food is damaged, and the cash tray is open.

Think. The gas is dispersed through the air. What else is in the air? Dust particles, people’s breath – water vapour? Water. De-humidifier. Was it programmed to make people suffocate somehow? No – the post-mortem showed gas. Unless there was some kind of trigg-. Oh, oh. Stupid Sherlock. Of course. I let out a laugh that doesn’t reach my eyes, clapping my hands together. Before John can give me that look again, I explain it to him. Slowly, of course, catering for the pathetically slow and inefficient way in which his mind functions. ‘The de-humidifier takes the water vapour out of the air. This triggers the release of gas from the open cash tray (which is positioned by the de-humidifier), which is then absorbed into the muscles of the people. Hence, four dead people, and no remaining gas in the air, leaving it safe for the next customers.’ He looks at me, slowly processing the information.  
‘So,’ he says, ‘the shop owner murdered the assistant and three customers. And there is a whole pile of gas sitting in these people’s bodies.’  
‘Yup.’  
‘So when they go to be cremated, that will be released into the air, and into the surrounding people?’ I hadn’t thought about that, but keep my face blank and my eyes cold.  
‘Yes.’  
‘That’s not good.’ I roll my eyes at him, and he begins to text frantically.

I smile – deaths can be so intriguing.


End file.
